The Faun
by the-grendel
Summary: tidbits of PanMoanna, just little chapters.
1. Forest

The forest outside the castle is huge and magickal; a home to sprites and wood fairies of every kind. It has been a home to the Faun, as well. He had always been able to seek comfort in the gentle sway of the trees above him; the light wood-smelling breeze on his face. This was many years ago. It has not happened for a long time.

Nothing can comfort him now; even though the Princess is returned, which he know should bring him great joy, he is still mourning. The wind blows on his face but he feels no relief. He stares down at his gnarled, rutted fingers, poking out of his hands like tree branches. No wonder the Princess sees nothing in him to love. _I am so ugly_, he thinks.

Time has passed since the Princess' return, and she has grown into a lovely young woman. But the Faun is old, old and tired; why should she, who is as bright and young as a new star, want someone like him? He shrinks away from the rejection he is afraid she'll give him. He has retreated into the forest, hoping it will comfort him as it used to. It doesn't. He cannot stop thinking about her long, flowing, silky dark hair. Or her beautiful pale skin. She haunts his mind mercilessly. _How long will this torment continue?_ the Faun thinks to himself, his face in his hands.

And, of course, she will marry one day. The Faun realizes this, and curses the day in the future when she becomes someone else's bride; someone who won't even need her as much as he. But he knows it will happen, and it will happen soon.

The faun wonders if she ever thinks of him, at least somewhat fondly. Of what sort of importance is he to her? Friend? Servant? Anything? He walks slowly over to a rock, and sits on it. He sighs longingly.

_I am nothing to her, _he thinks to himself. _To her, I'm just the Faun, and nothing more._


	2. Mirror

Moanna watches from her window; she looks at the Faun walking into the woods. She turns away, thoughts streaming into her head. _He has been so down lately_, she thinks. _He no longer talks to me. He was my best friend. What happened? _She sits on her huge canopy bed with white silk covers, and as hard as she tries, Moanna cannot think of any reason why the Faun should avoid her so.

"I wonder if I've done something wrong..." she murmurs to herself. She sighs and walks over to the mirror on her wall, and studies herself in it. Moanna almost gasps; how she has changed since she first arrived here! Her hair was very long, past her waist, and tumbled from her head like a satin chocolate ribbon. Her face had lost its little-girl roundness. Her body is no longer thin as a rail, but shapely and voluptuous. She sighs. _You'll marry in no time_, her father had told her recently, beaming at his beautiful daughter.

"I don't _want_ to marry," she says to her reflection. Her lips move around the words with defiance and elegance. She says it again, louder. "I don't want to marry. I don't want to marry." She grins, and turns away from the mirror. Moanna walks to the window once again, and watches the forest. The leaves of the trees swirl around in the breeze like an angry ocean, and after some moments the Faun walks out.

Moanna turns away from the window. Her good mood is gone.


	3. Rain

He stands in the rain at nighttime; his matted hair falls in wet locks around him, and he stares up at the cloudy black sky, feeling as though the heavens are weeping with him. Saltwater tears mixed with rainwater are streaming down his cheeks from his aqua blue, slanted eyes, etching pain all over his face. The grass is wet and mushy underneath his cloven feet, and the wind is not comforting but painful, piercing his flesh like a thousand knives. The trees shake accusatory fingers at the crying sky, and the Faun shivers with cold, wet sadness.

"Faun? What are you doing out here?"

Her voice is as gentle and strong as the breeze, and he whirls around, startled. She stands there, her hair wet underneath the pattering tattoo of rain, her dress emerald green and almost soaked. The Faun wonders if she was standing there watching him, and for how long. He clears his throat to rid his voice of the tears that clogged it.

"Princess, you're going to be soaked..." but he stops himself. She already _is_ soaked. "Go back inside before you catch your death," he adds.

"That's not important, dear Faun," she says softly. His heart flutters hopefully. She'd called him 'dear'? "I need to speak with you."

"Princess, can it wait until the world is drier?" the Faun asks her. He doesn't want her to see him like this; he wants her to speak with him when he is full of joy and goodness. He sighs inwardly. He never _has _joy or goodness anymore.

"No, this cannot wait," Moanna replies. "For if I wait until tomorrow, you'll find some excuse to wait even longer. I cannot have that." She pauses. The Faun does not reply. Moanna goes on, "We are friends, right? Best friends?"

What little hope that was in the Faun's heart fades away when she says this. "Yes, of course, my Princess," he says instantly, trying to keep the sorrow from his wavering words. "For as long as we both live, we're friends."

Moanna studies him for a long moment, and then sighs in a resigned way. "All right," she says. "I suppose I am satisfied...for now."

She walks back inside, and the Faun is left behind, confused and sad. His tears have stopped falling, but the rain still has not let up. He turns back to the sky, and wishes for the tears to fall again, so that he can know he is real. But they do not come. He simply gazes up into the sky, sorrowful and lost, rainwater falling into his uncrying eyes.


	4. Book

The huge book creaks when Moanna opens it; the spine cracks in a tired but good-natured way. She is sitting cross-legged on her silk bed, her red dress flowing about her, as she clutches the book that the Faun gave her, holding it with eager hands.

It is bright and warm outside the castle, and the sunlight pours into the room, its brightness bleeding pure joy. For a moment, Moanna looks up into the light, closing her eyes, bathing her face in warmth. After a few long moments, she looks down once again at the book resting in her lap.

Ink words begin to form onto the old parchment. It slowly entwines itself, forming itself from meaningless lines to coherent words..."The Faun is..." she murmurs, reading the still-forming message.

"Princess Moanna," a voice calls from outside her door, muffled and faint, accompanied by a timid knock. "Princess?"

"Come in," Moanna calls, sighing and closing her book; she'll have to read later, she supposes.

The door opens and reveals the Princess' personal servant girl, who looks nervous and fidgety. "What is it, Ava?" Moanna asks kindly.

"There is a man your father wants you to meet," Ava replies anxiously, her eyes darting around the room as if unsure of where to place themselves. "Is this not an opportune time, Princess? Do you wish to meet that man later? It can be arranged, if you desire."

Moanna looks at the ceiling, thinking. What sort of man does her father want her to meet? Her expression darkens. "If it is a _suitor_," she says angrily to no one in particular, "I shall _not _be pleased at _all_..." Ava doesn't reply; she just looks down at her feet, unable to think of something to say. Moanna sighs moodily. "I don't want to see anyone," she says. "Tell Father to send him away."

"Yes, Princess," Ava says timidly, and scurries away. Distracted by her thoughts, Moanna thrusts her book back on the shelf. _I'll read it later_, she thinks, still enraged at the King's attempts to entice her to marry. She tells herself it won't work. She _knows_ it won't work. _Who wants marriage when you can have freedom?_ she thinks. _A wife scrubs the dirt out of her life day by day until she withers from exhaustion, but a free woman can roam wherever she pleases and have no restrictions or limits._

"So much for my good mood!" she bursts out in the silence. "Curse my father, I don't _want _to get married!"

Outside Moanna's room, the Faun grins inwardly. He has been standing, concealed, behind a statue outside her room, and has heard everything. Hope rises in his heart, and he feels a faint surge of joy which he has not felt in a long, long time. He smiles a little, and walks silently away.


	5. Pulse

He dreams. He is asleep peacefully on a flat, mossy stone in the forest. Fairy dust and dew float in the air around him, and the moon creates beams filtered through the tree leaves. A quiet blanket has been rolled over the kingdom, and the Faun's dreams are quite nice.

In his sleeping vision, he is up in a tree with Princess Moanna. They are sitting side by side, not speaking, just soaking up the warmth of the world. The sun shines brightly, almost too brightly, on the forest, and the light of day is highly contrasted and surreal.

Dream-Moanna softly takes the Faun's huge, gnarled hand, and feels its pulse. She smiles--a grin that melted the Faun's heart. Moanna takes the Faun's other hand and places it on her wrist. Their heartbeats are completely in sync. The thumps beat audibly throughout the kingdom; the energy of their heartbeats sounds in every realm, every world that exists.

The breeze lightly rustles the leaves of the tree, and Moanna and the Faun withdraw their hands. The Dream-Princess looks deeply into the Faun's eyes, and he realizes that she is not such a little girl. He sees her soul, and it is ancient, just like his; ancient and wise and beautiful.

Dream-Moanna fades away, and the dream ends. The Faun awakens with a light smile on his lips.


	6. Sweat

She wanders the palace grounds, her blue velvet dress trailing behind her. The sky is grey and rumbling the threat of a storm. The weather has been so moody lately; never settling on one form of mind. Moanna feels heavy and sticky; the humid air makes her dress stick to her body from perspiration. Beads of sweat roll down between her breasts, and dot her forehead, glistening. She wipes her brow with the back of her hand, and decides to go back inside.

And then she hears a voice behind her: "Are you Princess Moanna?" The voice is low and young and attractive. She turns around slowly, and sees a man standing behind her.

"I may be," she says haughtily. "Who wants to know?" She stares at him defiantly, not liking how he had addressed her so boldly. He is a young man, but a few years older than herself. His hair is brown and playfully tousled, and his face is hard, chiseled, and good-looking.

"I come from a kingdom near this one," he replies. "My mother is the queen."

"Why are you here?" Moanna asks him, not rudely. She feels slightly lost and out of control when she looks at his slightly smirking face.

He bows, grinning. "Your father invited me, Princess," he says. "I came a few days ago, but you did not wish to be disturbed..."

Moanna looks at the sky for a few moments. She feels a bit nauseous and lightheaded looking at this boy, and this feeling slightly frightens her. She does not know where to put her eyes, and when she looks back at him, her pulse skips a beat. _Why am I feeling this way? _she wonders to herself. _This is no way to behave...Oh, Moanna, you're just getting bad vibes from him. Obviously, he's not to be trusted._ But she doubts her own thoughts. It doesn't _feel_ like bad vibes...if there are any vibes at all, they feel good.

"It's too hot to talk right now," she says to the young man. "I'm going inside." She turns, and walks back into the castle, feeling a little shaky. She ignores the boy's crestfallen "Goodbye," as she closes the huge door and takes off to her room.


	7. Candle

His mind plays the scene he had witnessed over and over again, and each time it plays, his anger grows deeper. How could she look at that...that foul, arrogant man that way? Can't she see he has no heart, no soul? Such a match was ridiculous, and it enraged the Faun down to the very roots of his being!

He is back in the forest, deeper in it than he had been in a long time: so deep that the light of day is nowhere to be seen. The air in the heart of the woods is stuffy and thick, and combined with his fury, it makes the Faun feel like he is suffocating.

Despite his fury, the Faun's rational mind tries to make him see sense. _Her expression was not one of love,_ the voice says to him. _It couldn't have been. They are completely incompatible. _The Faun grunts in agreement; though he had never spoken to the young man, and doesn't even know his name, he knows that Moanna is not right for him. But still, his mind replays what he saw again and again. Scarcely able to control his pain, he lets out a loud, piercing cry; a wail of a wounded soul, a tortured heart.

The Faun sinks low to the ground, his mind still trying to make sense of it; still trying to convince him that he is just imagining things. But in his heart he still strongly suspects the unthinkable: _Moanna might love someone other than me_.

No sound presents itself in the dark, gloomy heart of the forest. He can make as much noise of anger and pain as he wants; no one will hear him and come to comfort him. The still trees and dead air do not help remove the hurt that throbs in his veins.

A small pouch sits next to him, containing food and other small things he may need if he decides to stay here for a while. He draws a candle from the bag, and cups his hands over it. He whispers a magickal incantation, his voice hoarse with pain, and a small flame dances on the candle. Normally he would have smiled at the small magick he had performed. Not today. He digs a small hole in the moist dirt, and places the candle in it. Its light illuminates his face with a small orange glow.

Tears run down his cheeks, but he makes no sound or movement. His fury is replaced with despair. "Why should I live?" he whispers to the candle. "What if she _does_ love him, my dear little flame?"

The candle does not answer. A sign does not come to assure him or discourage him. The fire merely dances, merry and joyful though in the midst of the Faun's throbbing pain.


	8. Angel

"You look like an angel," the young man says kindly to Moanna as she walks over to him. He smiles. He is sitting by the pond outside, but stands when she comes near.

You'd never know there had been the threat of a storm the day before; it is a bright day, and the sun makes the pond water sparkle cheerfully. The castle makes a huge shadow on the grounds, but somehow the bright sky manages to make the shadow unnoticeable. The trees sway contentedly in the massaging breeze. Leaves flutter like lovesick, giddy youths.

Moanna sighs inwardly. Normally she would have rolled her eyes at his stupid, cliché comment, but for some reason, coming from him it doesn't bother her. She simply smiles back, a faraway smile that reveals her troubled thoughts.

The prince notices. "Is there something wrong, Princess?" he asks her.

She shakes her head. "No," she says firmly. She smoothes out her purple silk dress, and takes a deep breath, thinking about how to form the question she wants to ask the man. "Why are you here in this kingdom?" she says finally.

"Because it's beautiful here," he replies, grinning. The breeze tousles his hair a little, making him seem cool and carefree. "And I'm not just talking about the scenery," he adds, winking at her.

Moanna doesn't know what to do. She just wishes he'd go away, so that she wouldn't have to wrestle with the feelings she might come to have. An unexpected anger rises in her chest. What right does this _boy_ have to just come along and wreck her world? She bristles, and he looks taken aback by her expression.

"Have I done something to offend you?" he asks her with genuine apology. "If I have, I beg you to forgive--"

"Stop that," she says angrily. "I don't need that." She gives a huff of frustration, and wonders, _Why am I acting like this? Moanna, stop losing your temper! _"I'm sorry," she says to the man. "I just...have a lot on my mind right now."

"Of course," he replies, too warmly, too understanding. "Just tell me what you need, and I will be happy to oblige."

_That's what I'm afraid of,_ Moanna thinks. "I need to...to go and...think about things."

"Of course," he repeats, smiling.

Moanna flees, and the young man hears a voice behind him, an old, tired, hurt voice with dust and age in every syllable.

"Who...are...you?"

The young man turns, and sees a Faun--oh, he had never seen a Faun before! "How do you do!" he says eagerly, wringing his hands.

The Faun rolls his slanted eyes. This boy is worse than he thought. So ridiculous! It makes the Faun even more confused as to why Moanna might love him. What one earth does she possibly see in him? The Faun clears his throat, and asks, "Where do you come from?" He cannot help the small irritated growl in his words.

A smile from the young man; he gestures to the mountains. "Straight over those, and a couple hours North. Let me tell you, it took a good deal of trouble getting here, what with your forest being so..._infested!_" The boy laughs good-naturedly.

"Infested?" the Faun questions, somewhat offended. "Infested with _what_, pray?"

"Oh...you know...fairies and sprites and such things," this man replies casually. "Although I have to admit, the nymphs are quite nice...they gave me some food and told me which way to go."

The Faun almost chokes on his laughter. This idiot! Doesn't he know _never _to accept _anything _from nymphs? Their food probably put some confusion hex on him, and then they probably gave him the wrong directions. Yet another reason to be baffled by Moanna's possible love for the man! The Faun works hard to keep his face from contorting to jeering laughter. "I see," he replies calmly.

"Are you really a Faun?" the boy asks eagerly.

"Yes." The Faun can hardly bring himself to say more words to this idiot.

"Ah...well, I'm only asking because I've never met one before..."

"We are few," the Faun says bluntly, and then changes the subject. "Are you here to court Princess Moanna? I can think of no other reason besides that."

The boy looks a bit uncomfortable, but says finally, "Well...I _like_ her, if that's what you--"

"You _like _her," The Faun says incredulously. "Do you have no depth to your soul? Are you incapable of having a spirit at _all_? Don't you know what love is?" The Faun is almost shouting at this boy, and doesn't bother to apologize afterward. "If that's all, if you just _like_ her, let me tell you that you're never going to get her."

The Faun trots angrily away before he does real damage. His fury at this young man is too great to handle right now. "To think!" he says aloud. "To think that such an imbecile could ever marry Moanna!"

He laughs sarcastically, but he knows it isn't funny: it's a serious, serious problem that could cause him more pain than he can now imagine.


	9. Cloak

"Tell my father that I want the boy to leave," Moanna says to her servant girl, who says, "Yes, Princess," and scuttles away. Moanna rolls on her back and sighs. She is lying on her silk bed, staring at the folds of white canopy above it. She doesn't want to face these feelings she ought not to have. Feelings for someone she doesn't want; that might someday lead her to marriage.

Ha! Marriage! She jeers at the word. _Me, married?_ It seems ridiculous to her. A week ago, she could not care less for men or love. But now...now she isn't so sure. Which is why she has to make the young man go away. "If he's gone, then there's no love to feel," she tells herself, and nods in agreement. This makes sense.

But still, something troubles her, but she can't figure out what. "It's that _Faun_," she whispers to herself finally. "Something odd is going on with him...if only he'd speak long enough for me to figure out what." She thinks for a moment. "Where does he live?" she asks herself. "Not in the castle...he doesn't strike me as a castle-dwelling type..."

"Pardon me, Princess, but the King has told me to send word to you that the young man will be on his way to his kingdom tomorrow evening." Ava has returned, and is now standing in Moanna's doorway, looking uncomfortable. She adds timidly, "And, Princess, you were wondering where the Faun lives?" She points to the window, and Moanna rises and walks over to it. "He lives in the forest...some say at the very heart; the darkest and thickest, but those could just be rumors, ma'am."

Moanna turns to face Ava, and gives her a warm smile. "Thank you very much," she says. "For I very much wish to find him." Ava bows and leaves.

_I'm going into that forest_, Moanna thinks, and grabs her cloak.


	10. Tremor

A tremor of magickal power moves through the mossy, moist floor of the forest. Only the Faun senses it, and he wakes up from his light slumber. He's been in the heart of the forest for a day now, venting his anger and thinking things through. Last night he vowed never to exit the woods again, but now he isn't so sure he wants to hold to this oath. After all, isn't there a chance that she might not love the young man? The Faun doubts it, but still...

This strange surge of power in the forest frightens him; he wonders what it means. After it happens, it is gone instantly, which upsets him even more. How is he to magickally identify it if it's gone? Not at ease, he gingerly lies back down on his flat rock, and tries to go back to sleep.

Another tremor. This time he leaps up, knowing exactly what it is.

The forest has an intruder-sensory magick; it can tell when someone unknown is entering; someone who does not belong to the woods. The Faun wonders who it might be. The King? A dark spirit? If so, he has to be prepared. The Faun takes out the candle from his bag, lights it, and whispers some magickal incantations into the thick, humid air.

He waits. For whoever--or whatever--is coming, he waits, the moist dew dripping off the dark leaves of the tall trees that black out the sun.

He waits.


	11. Trees

The leaves of the trees and bushes scrape Moanna's cloak and skin, as if telling her to keep away. She fights, pushing them back from whence they came. Moanna clutches a small knife, to help her fight off any stubborn wood-creatures she might meet. _If I meet a spirit, though, a knife won't do me much good_, she thinks to herself, pushing away a walloping branch.

She travels deeper and deeper into the forest, grunting and groaning with the effort of making it through the trees. It's almost as if the forest is condensing itself so as to make it harder for her to get through...

As she slowly but surely pushes on, Princess Moanna notices the air growing hotter, thicker, and wetter. She feels as if she is in some dense jungle, water trapped in the air, with no breeze to speak of.

Even more strangely, the forest itself seems to be _alive_. It throbs with a pulse; a heartbeat; a soul. Moanna is amazed by the sort of plants it harbors; tall, tall trees that are so thick you can't see the light of day through them; small plants that seem to fly and swirl through the air; wet exotic fruits dripping with dew and sweetness. The Princess can hardly concentrate on both getting through the brush and staring at the plant life.

A magickal dust floats in the air; could it be pixie traces, or nymph spells? As she trudges on, the floor of the woods gets wetter and thicker; she has to pull on her leg to get her foot out of the ground with each step, and it makes a thick sucking sound when she does.

It seems to be many, many hours before she finally reaches the heart of the forest, and the first things she sees is the Faun bent over a candle, muttering something magickal.


	12. Friend

He knows it is her. He senses her coming, and knows who it is. _Gods, why doesn't she stay away? Doesn't she know she's tearing me apart? _The trees suddenly creak and moan, as though disturbed from an ancient sleep. The Faun's slanted eyes scan the forest around him, seeing nothing in the darkness. The candle wax is melting quickly, and the flame weakens.

And, with a rustle of leaves on the forest floor, Moanna appears behind him.

The Faun whirls around, and, seeing her in a traveler's cloak with a knife in one hand and her spirit bleeding strength, his breath catches, and his pulse quickens. He tries to think of something to say to her, but language has escaped him completely. He simply stares at her, unsure how he is supposed to feel.

"You once told me that you had names only the wind and the trees can pronounce," she says strongly, looking him straight in the eyes. She doesn't wait for him to confirm this memory. "I have a name for you too, Faun. Your name is Friend; for you are my friend forever...or at least, that's what I thought."

"Princess," the Faun suddenly manages to gasp. "I don't--"

"You have vanished as of late like an underground beast flees from light," she interrupts. "We used to talk, sing, and waste the hours. I do not know what happened between us," she says, not breaking her gaze; simply holding it. "But whatever it was, I wish that it hadn't happened."

"What are you saying?" the Faun asks hoarsely.

"I'm saying I want you back at the castle. I want you to be my friend once again." She offers him a thin smile. She seems to be radiating power, and the Faun has to look away from her strong gaze. He looks at his hands instead.

"Friends..." he whispers. He mourns the word. "Is that...is that all, Princess?" he asks, desperation in his voice and on his face.

Moanna says nothing. She simply looks into his eyes, which have turned away from her. And she _sees_. She knows what has been troubling him so. She knows of his pain, his sorrow. Moanna understands that the Faun is in love with her.

"Never mind," the Faun says quickly. "You don't need to answer that, Princess. I am sorry. A true friend would not ask such a thing." He sighs, wiping the sweat off his face with the back of his rutted hand. "Very well," he tells her, attempting a smile. "I shall accompany you back to the castle."


	13. Moon

_Friend_. The word the Faun lives by for the next few months. _Friend_. Moanna does not speak to him or his love for her, and he does not bring it up, either. _Friend_. A word that haunts him, eats away at his ancient soul. A word which causes a swell of despair inside him every time he hears it from the Princess' lips.

He pushes away his pain, and focuses on being Moanna's _friend_. If she says, "I'm so glad we're friends, Faun," he would answer, "As am I, Princess." If he says "good morning" to her, what he means is "please, please love me."

It is midnight, and he is staying in the castle. He sleeps now in the Plant Room, which reminds him of his forest home. A pond rests on the floor of the room, and he gazes at his reflection. The long, curling black horns; his slanted blue eyes; his ancient skin; the swirls in his forehead. He is an image which haunts him, because he is an image that Moanna does not love. At least, not in the way he wishes. A _friend_ way.

His gnarled hand touches his grey-skinned cheek. He lightly strokes his own skin, to comfort himself. The touch does some good; it takes his mind off his suffering, if only for a moment.

The moon shines through a window, illuminating the plants and the pond in the room. Moonbeams touch down on the Faun's skin, as if trying to soothe him. He smiles gratefully at the sky.

"Thank you, dear Moon," he whispers. "I take what small comforts I can; though they may not last forever, I thank you for shining every night and distracting me from my pain." He gazes at the sky through the window for a few moments, and looks back to his reflection.

He is calmer. His face doesn't haunt him so much now.


	14. Dusk

The sunlight illuminates Moanna's chocolate brown hair, and she squints as she gazes up into it. The grass hugs her bare ankles with cool, soft blades, and her blue skirt gently sways in the breeze. It is dusk; the hour of bliss; the time of day when everyone forgets who they are and live only in the moment they are in. Moanna smiles, and sits under the shade of a tree.

She sees the Faun from afar; he is on the other side of the pond, looking at ancient rune scrolls, his brow furrowed in concentration. A wave of affection goes over the Princess, and she grins. _My Faun is so serious_, she thinks happily.

She looks at him for long moments, studying him like a philosopher. His black, swirling horns gleam in the sunlight; his eyes are almost closed in examination of the scrolls; his wild hair tosses and whirls about in the wind. _He's not self-conscious_, she notices. _He's never cared about the way he looks, or the way others look. He only sees a person, and a person's soul. _She greatly admires this, and after a long moment, she shifts her gaze back to the sky, her head full of thought.

The rush of warmth that she felt when she looked at the Faun does not go away. It stays, and she wonders why it stays, and wonders how long it will stay. Subconsciously, the Princess examines this sensation, and can come to no conclusion besides the fact that she might feel something a little more than friend-love for the Faun.

_No,_ she thinks to herself, shaking her head. _That's impossible. _She pushes the warm affection away, and walks back into the castle, feeling lightheaded.


	15. Weep

In the pitch-black night, Moanna wakes up screaming. Her shriek echoes into the night, and is followed by dead silence; frighteningly still silence. She is sweating, her body beaded with perspiration. Moanna swallows hard and gets out of bed, staring outside at the star-spotted sky.

_Must've had a nightmare,_ she thinks. _Although I can't remember what it is..._

She hears the creak of her door opening. Footsteps sounding like cloven hooves drum the floor, and the Faun lights a torch to see what's happened. Moanna looks at him, and he seems frightened and wild, with the look of having just woken up.

"What's going on?" the Faun asks her, fear in his voice. "I heard a scream..."

Moanna sits back down on her bed, suddenly overwhelmed by a headache. "I don't know," she answers. "I think I...must've had a bad dream..." Her voice trails off as her attention wanders to the Faun. She finds herself staring at him, and looks away quickly, turning red.

The Faun feels relieved; he'd thought that someone had tried to break in and take her, or some such absurd thing. He finds that his gaze is lost in the back of Moanna's head; her long, dark hair in coiled tendrils. But he remembers sorrowfully that he is an unloved, hideous creature, and looks at the floor instead.

A small, weak sound is coming from Moanna, and the Faun realizes that she is crying. He timidly walks over to her, not knowing what to do.

_Look at me,_ Moanna thinks. _What am I crying for? It was just a dream..._

The Faun sits down next to her on her bed, and puts his arms around her in an embrace of comfort. She turns and sobs openly on his shoulder, crying away all the feelings that she does not know what to do with. The Faun simply lets her weep, loving himself for comforting her and hating himself for not being loved by her.

The stars gleam, and the night wears on, and once Moanna has cried herself to sleep, the Faun quietly covers her with a silk blanket and slips out of her room.


	16. Image

The Faun. An ancient, mysterious creature, as old as the faces of the mountain, carved by time. Moanna, the Princess. A girl who is almost a woman; royalty. She should not be harboring these feelings. Every time she even thinks of the Faun, she feels a blush rising into her cheeks, and she fixes her embarrassed eyes on her hands, or the floor.

_I do not love him, _she thinks as she walks along the edges of the pond. She kicks a stone into the water, and ripples gently fan out on the surface. _Even if I did, it is impossible. My father would never allow such a pairing. Never. _She looks up to the sky, and the breeze embraces her skin coolly. The bright blueness of above almost blinds her with its brilliance, and she looks down at the grass nudging her feet.

_But am I not allowed to imagine what I wish could be? _she wonders to herself, grinning. _My father hasn't got access to my thoughts, has he? _

So she pictures the Faun; she pictures his reflection in the water, the ripples contorting his dusty body. She imagines his horns, gleaming in the sunlight, his slanted blue eyes fixed calmly on the water. In her mind, the wind blows gently around him. The mere sight of the Faun in her mind's eye satisfies her, and she closes her eyes and lets the image linger.

Her eyes shut, she thinks, _If I love him...so what? What's the big commotion about it? _She thinks of the prince who'd come a few months earlier, and grimaces. _Well, _she thinks, opening her eyes, _at least the Faun has got a brain._

Looking up at the sky, she smiles to herself, taking joy in the images no one else can see; images of the Faun.


	17. Eyes

His spine tingles as he feels her watching him. The breeze blows gently on the Faun's back as he sits underneath a tree, and he senses the Princess' eyes on him. He shivers with glee, not even bothering to remind himself that she doesn't love him. All he cares about right now is the attention she is unknowingly giving him.

Clouds slowly form on the horizon, and spread out unto the sky. _I sense rain_, he thinks, lifting his face to the air and sniffing lightly. _The wind warns of a storm. _

He remembers that night; the rain pounding on his back, his head. He thinks of Moanna's questioning gaze: _We are friends, right? Best friends? _This memory's smell is faintly on the breeze. He pushes it away and lingers on the feeling of her eyes on him.

"Faun?"

Her voice rings out in the silent coming of the rain, and the Faun turns. She is standing at the edge of the pond, looking at him. "Yes, my Princess?"

Moanna's eyes burn right through him like fire; his soul bears itself to her willing gaze. He has been turned inside out. He cannot say no to her.

The rain comes, as expected, and still the Princess says nothing. Her hair swirls around her in a sudden wind, and she looks like a warrior maiden, standing up to her enemies, unafraid of death. Her eyes do not turn away; they take in every inch of the Faun and his soul. Her expression remains solid. She still does not speak. _How much of this can I take, Princess?_ he thinks. _How long until I can have you?_

"Yes, Princess?" he asks again, gently.

Raindrops patter violently on the earth, and Moanna turns away. "Nothing," she murmurs, and walks towards the castle, rain elegantly bouncing off her form, as if she is surrounded by a dim, grey light. The Faun watches her go, and then looks down at his hands. He feels empty, now that she's gone. Now that her gaze is gone.

---

**A note: I will not be able to update from Sept 13 - Sept 21 or so, because I'll be camping. I may update a few times before I leave, but I'm just giving you all a warning. Do svidanja. Leiowyn**


	18. Change

She stands in front of her mirror again as it storms outside. Moanna paws at her long hair mindlessly, thinking of what had happened. She's said nothing to the Faun. It had rained. She knows he'd remembered that night too; the night she'd asked him if they were still friends.

As she stares at her image in the mirror, she feels different, somehow. Her reflection isn't the same reflection it was a few months ago. Well--it's still her, yes, it still looks like her: long, long hair, pale skin, high cheekbones. But something has changed.

_I'm someone who can love now,_ she thinks to herself, smiling. _I thought I couldn't love, before. I didn't want to get married. Now, I wouldn't mind so much..._

A huge crack of thunder and strike of lightning shakes the castle lightly. Moanna turns away from her mirror, and walks over to her window, her eyes searching for the Faun. He scans the edge of the forest, the pond, the hills. She can't see him.

_He must have come in_, she thinks logically. She lets her mind wander. _Do I love him? I didn't think so, but now I'm not so sure..._ She tried to imagine a life with the Faun. She pictured living with him in a stone house in the forest, curled up by a fireplace. She doesn't want a palace life. She wants a forest life, a life with the Faun.

_Yes, _she thinks, closing her eyes. She thinks, _I have changed...I can love now. I can love the Faun, and I can live in the woods. I can do it all_. Smiling, she falls asleep on the windowsill, the rain falling gently on her face as the storm wears away. 


	19. Fire

Sparks shoot from the stick as the Faun murmurs incantations, sweat beading his forehead. After a few tries, the stick bursts into flame, and the Faun leans back and smiles.

He has not been in the forest for a long time; he's been too busy being with Moanna. But now he needs a little privacy, a little time to think. The outer rings of the forest are peaceful, unlike the bustling noise of the palace. The Faun faintly wonders whether he should bring the Princess into the woods one day.

_Such a chance will never come_, he reminds himself. _She is a Princess. She is the king's daughter. She'll get married, and I'll never see her again_. But a small, small part of him is filled with doubt.

He remembers her eyes on his back, her strong, non-blushing gaze when he looked back at her. He thinks of her figure, tall and proud, on the side of the pond. The Faun can see her as a queen, oh yes. But not a normal queen...a queen of strength, of power. Of goodness.

The Faun sighs, and his burning stick goes out. Cursing, he mutters spells again, and it half-heartedly catches fire.

He can also see her as a woman of the wood; a forest-woman. A tree-climber, a night-dweller. Someone to count stars with, to talk endlessly with, to stare at the mountains with. _I can teach her the language of the wind and trees, _he thinks to himself, and shudders. Thinking of such a future makes a shiver run down his spine.

_It won't happen_, he thinks, but his grin shows that he thinks it might. After all, she had been watching him...

His fire fades out again, and, grinning, he doesn't care.


	20. Risk

At midnight, the Faun is visited in the forest by one of his faeries. The trees whisper an arrival, and the Faun turns to see his faerie hovering midair, a silhouette in the barely-seen moon. "Yes, my friend?" the Faun says, with a small sad smile.

_You must tell her, _the Faun's faerie whispers in his ear, in the tongue of faeries. _Before it is too late, and the King has her marry another. _Its grim expression is serious, and the Faun sighs.

"I know," he replies, his voice hoarse and tired. "I just...don't...want her to hate me." The words bring tears to his eyes, and the faerie gives an exasperated huff.

_Are you any better off like this; mourning lost love and wallowing in self-pity? _the faerie asks him. _Please, my friend. It is not wise to not take risks only because you are afraid to do so. Hiding does not solve anything. Friend, look at me. _The faerie zooms closer to the Faun, glaring at him.

"I didn't give up hope," the Faun says to his friend. "She has been watching me lately..."

_Then why will you not tell her how you feel? _the faerie demands.

A long silence hovers in the forest as the Faun thinks this over. "Very well," he says finally, and lets out a shuddering sigh. "You bring her here. I cannot go inside the castle again. It is...not my habitat."

The faerie nods. _I understand,_ it says. _I will bring her to you._


	21. Follow

The book's spine creaks as Moanna opens it; she is sitting cross-legged on her bed in the middle of the night, unable to sleep. The book is soft and familiar in her hands, and she is sure no one will interrupt her while she looks through it this time.

Slants of moonlight fall into her room, giving her just enough light for her to not have to get a candle. She turns a few pages for no reason she can think of, and stares at a page of old parchment, waiting for something to appear.

Lines of ink crawl on the paper, and form into words. "_The Faun..." _Her heart quickens, and she gulps as the words make themselves known.

_"The Faun is..."_

"He is what, he is what?" she asks aloud, impatient. The ink lines slow down, and then stop all together, until the page simply reads, _"The Faun is"._

Moanna slams the book shut, and then winces. _Such uselessness! _she thinks angrily. _I thought the Book of Crossroads would help me with such a difficult situation as this. _She sighs, and gets up to put the book on the shelf. Before she can, a buzzing sound comes next to her ear. She whirls around, and sees one of the Faun's faerie pets.

"Hello," she says. "I don't suppose you'd know how to make this book work, would you?"

The faerie gives her a grin which she reads as: _I haven't a clue._

"How useless," she says under her breath, and then adds quickly, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean any disrespect...I'm just angry, that's all."

The faerie gives her another devilish grin, its wings buzzing like a bee's, a gleam in its glittering black eyes. It flies closer to her and lands on her shoulder, tugging at her ear.

"What?" Moanna says wearily. "Please, it's too late for games. I'm tired." The faerie tugs harder on her earlobe, making her grimace. "All right! Take me to wherever you want," she says. Then, all at once, Moanna understands. "You're taking me to the Faun, aren't you?"

The tugs on her ear cease, and the faerie nods, still grinning. It whizzes quickly out the door, and, sighing, Moanna follows.


	22. Autumn

The trees shiver tensely as Moanna, clutching her cloak, steps inside. The harsh wind seems to push her in, as though the whole world is aware of her meeting with the Faun.

The faerie whizzes nervously in front of her, hoping that the Faun will not flee. This is too important. _No, _the faerie thinks to itself. _The Faun is weak and strong at the same time. He is weak without Moanna, but strong with her. _

Moanna's feet crush autumn leaves as she follows the faerie into the woods. The path winds and weaves around the trees, and hours slowly slither by. The faerie grows anxious; has the Faun gone deeper into the woods? Will they have a hard time finding him? The small creature turns around in midair to face Moanna. It gives her a look that means, _Be aware of the forest. We may have to look for the Faun. _

Nodding and shivering slightly, Moanna walks along behind the faerie, her eyes grazing the woods, hungry for any sight of the ancient being.


	23. Flee

A rushing, humming sound is in his ears as he is aware that she arrives. The forest floor seems to pound with his heart; a natural drum beat played by the trees. No wind seems to be present but he feels it howling in his ears. An ongoing battle rages with in him; _Shall I flee? _No, yes, no. The internal noise clashes with the forest's silence, creating a tornado of chaos swirling in the Faun's mind. He becomes lightheaded and dizzy, and unsure of where to put his eyes. He rests them on a tree root beneath his feet. The world seems to sway as he feels her coming closer. He notices with painful accuracy the footsteps of the one he loves; the rustle of the leaves as the Princess crushes them with her foot. He hears the swish of her cloak as she turns about, seeking him. _To reveal myself, or not?_ The faerie's whizzing wings sound through the air, and the throbbing of the Faun's veins pounds louder and louder, until he thinks, _Enough!_, gulps, and throws himself into Moanna's path.


	24. Truth

The forest is still, and the faerie whizzes away, knowing to give them privacy. Moanna is panting slightly, her cheeks a little flushed. The Faun's eyes switch back and forth from the Princess' chin to his feet to the forest ceiling.

Not a word is spoken for long moments; all that is heard is the hush of the trees and their leaves falling gracefully onto the dirt floor. A sigh slowly flows out between Moanna's slightly parted lips, and she is the first to speak.

"My friend," she says, her voice slightly wavering, "my friend who is not a friend, who should be a friend, but who wishes to be more than a friend." The Faun does not look startled. "Oh yes," says Moanna. "I know of your feelings. I know the emotions that creep up inside you. Though you have tried to banish them, they keep returning."

She looks up at the leaves above her, then straight into the Faun eyes. "You have been hurt unnecessarily," she tells him flatly. "You needn't have worried, all this time." Her voice trails off faintly.

The Faun clears his throat, which feels raw and coated with crust and age. "My Princess, I am not sure I understand what you are saying." He finds it difficult to look into her eyes, so his fixes his gaze on his hands. "But whatever it is," he mumbles, "please say it, for I am unsure I can bear much more torment."

"This is what I say to you, Faun," Moanna tells him, raising her head high. "I say that if you must relieve yourself of the burdens you carry, then do so now, or never speak to me again." She stops, startled at her own words. _But it is the only way, _she thinks to herself gravely. _He must learn to face his fears. _

A small sigh escapes from the Faun's mouth, and he gives up. "Very well," he replies hoarsely, and then shudders. "I love you," he says.


	25. Know

The wind howls approval of the Faun's confession. He feels lightheaded and dizzy; almost as though he's about to fall over. Moanna's image multiplies for a moment as he awaits her answer, his vision blurring.

The strong, beautiful, intelligent, wise Princess Moanna exhales a short breath of relief. She smiles lightly, and walks over to the Faun. She stands in front of him for a few moments, bends over, and kisses him lightly.

They both sway for a moment in their embrace, and then break apart. Moanna sighs. "I know you do," she tells him. "I just wanted to make sure you knew it, too."


	26. Finis

_She stands by my side._

_Years have passed, and she ages. I grow older than is even possible. Her hair harbors a few grey streaks, and the lines on her face grow a bit deeper. But Moanna is still beautiful to me. This will never change._

_I will tie some of the loose ends for you: the King allowed us to be together. A wedding ceremony was not held, but a secret forest ritual attended by faeries, imps, pixies, and other creatures alike, was. It was such a magickal moment, it still brings tears to my eyes. _

_Princess Moanna did not wish to rule over her kingdom. She wanted to come live in the woods with me. The ruler of the kingdom is now a child which Moanna's parents had after she left. _

_We have no sons or daughters. This does not concern us, for we enjoy each other's company too much for either of us to be unsatisfied. She lives in my protection, and I in hers. The forest's heart beats with ours, and we will never leave its safety, not even if we travel many miles away. The forest will always be with us. I know this. I am the Faun._

_FINIS _

_--\\///---_

**it's finally done!! took over a month to write, or something, i dunno; i have no sense of time. was very interesting to write; i hadn't originally planned on making it a series, but now i'm glad i did. thank you very much much much to all the commenters and favoriters; you guys have helped keep this story going. i love you!!!! **

**-grendel, the **


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